


A Very Old Story

by brieflybe



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, M/M, Pining, coda to s02e07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23892268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflybe/pseuds/brieflybe
Summary: Michael comes back to him like an old habit, or the flu. He’s not coming back, precisely. And not to Alex, specifically. It’s Caulfield that’s the point. War is the thing he’s signing up for. Michael stares Alex down after revealing all of Maria’s untold secrets, Isobel standing by his side like manic pixie dream, pale and sharp and piercing. All Alex wants is to step into their world, and leave his own behind.
Relationships: Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	A Very Old Story

_“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story._

_There is no other version of this story.”_

― Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

Michael comes back to him like an old habit, or the flu. He’s not coming back, precisely. And not to Alex, specifically. It’s Caulfield that’s the point. War is the thing he’s signing up for. Michael stares Alex down after revealing all of Maria’s untold secrets, Isobel standing by his side like manic pixie dream, pale and sharp and piercing. All Alex wants is to step into their world, and leave his own behind.

“And what’s new with you?” Alex asks her. It’s only polite.

“I no longer conform to the boundaries of Compulsory Heterosexuality forced upon us by the patriarchy,” is her answer. She’s batting her eyelashes, and her smile is thin.

“She wants to know who her parents are,” Michael clarifies.

Alex thinks about his father, meek and tired and haunting his own home like a ghost, lulling Alex into a false sense of security. He’s thinking about dad’s bunker, infested with bisexual aliens. “Great,” he says. “My secret bunker is your secret bunker.”

“Here is that small-town hospitality I’ve been hearing so much about.” It seems to Alex that he doesn’t even miss Michael anymore. The wreckage of them is a throbbing pain in his chest that has little to do with reality, that exists independently of Michael’s whereabouts and Michael’s actions. He wonders if this is what Michael had felt. That the Alex wound is so big, Alex himself wouldn’t be able to fix it anymore.

“That’s adorable,” Isobel says. “Your ex-lovers dynamic.”

Alex blinks at her.

“My ex-husband is a dead alien who used my body to murder three innocent girls.”

“We can go to the bunker now,” Alex offers.

“We don’t want to be any trouble.” She says, sardonic.

Both Alex and Michael laugh at that. They are all nothing but troubles. Awareness is key.

Michael offers a ride in his track.

Alex takes his own car.

Here is the first thing ( _things_ ) he should have asked: _Does Maria know about this? Why isn’t Maria here? Why are you telling me all of Maria’s deepest and darkest secrets?_

He doesn’t ask. He already knows the answers. He knows the people involved, and what kind of troubles he’s in. The truth isn’t going to change the fact that Alex is going to let Michael do whatever he wants. There is no point in digging any deeper. There is no point in asking. These are the two most important people in his life. This isn’t any of his business.

He focuses on Isobel instead. Sits next to Mean Girl and helps her dig up old files. He questions her, and accepts her reluctance to tell him everything, and laughs at her jokes. He tells her that yes, he has been to Planet 7 (Michael raises his right eyebrow). No, he does not have a Grindr (Michael raises his left eyebrow). Yes, he is seeing someone (Michael says nothing; does nothing). Her smile is delighted, her laugh is contagious. He wishes that he’d bothered to get to know her when it mattered. To Michael, that is.

“My brother is feeling left out,” she tells him. They’re both covered in ink stains and dust. They’ve found nothing. Alex knows this. Alex has been measuring the length of time in which he’s able and/or allowed to ignore Michael Guerin like it’s a drill. Like it matters.

“Is Maria okay?” he asks. He didn’t mean to.

Michael frowns at him.

“Does she need me?”

Michael is biting his lower lip, like an asshole. “Sure,” he tells Alex. “She does need you.”

“Oh,” Isobel asks. “Is it awkward since your – “

“Isobel –“

“Threesome – there is nothing to be embarrassed about Michael, God. I’m just asking in case I’m ever in this situation. I would like to think that I would handle it better than you, but I need to know how you’ve handled it first.”

“You told people,” Alex says. It’s fine. This is fine. He doesn’t care, and everything is fine.

“I’ve told Isobel.” Michael corrects.

“We were sharing,” Isobel provides.

“We were drunk,” Michael corrects.

“Does Max know?” he can’t help but ask.

Isobel shrugs. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t want cops knowing about my threesomes.” He whispers. It seems like – the least one can ask for.

“Max isn’t a cop anymore,” Michael tells him. “And he doesn’t know.” Michael seems to reconsider, and then, “unless Maria told Liz. And Liz told him.”

“This isn’t funny to me Guerin.”

“I’m not laughing, Manes.” He is laughing. Whatever. 

“Well, since we’re all sharing. What did Maria say when you told her you’re going to spend your night looking for a cure to her _illness_?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Manes,” Michael replies, which is fair, except that this isn’t about fair. This is about Alex’s tantrum.

“Maria likes being a psychic.” He reminds him, though he shouldn’t have to, because Michael must know.

“Maria will end up like her mother,” Michael snaps.

Alex runs a hand through his hair. He’s tired. His leg is hurting. Forrest was supposed to text him, but Alex didn’t even check. He doesn’t like being here, doing this. He doesn’t like what it’s turning him into. Michael was right – about old, unhealthy patterns. Michael was right, about wanting to be good for someone. They’re both here, though. Which is – whatever. Love isn’t enough but Alex knows better than anybody that being right isn’t enough either.

“She won’t,” he promises. He’s probably lying. “I should go see her,” he continues. He’s definitely lying.

“Look,” Michael tells him, “I would have done it for you.”

Alex tilts his head to side. “Is that so?” The rest of it, the “but we already know exactly what is wrong with your family,” goes unsaid in a room of psychics.

He wonders when Michael has decided that he can’t live off of this anymore. They had a deal, is the thing. Alex didn’t imagine it. They had this dysfunctional, gay, star-crossed-lovers deal. They were going to love each other and hurt each other. They are both destiny and inertia. Alex could have lived off of this. He wasn’t looking for peace. That’s just a thing you tell yourself when you have to leave. It’s just a thing to throw under the bus the minute you come back. 

Alex is fucked. 

“Can any of you tell the future?” he asks.

“God no,” Isobel chokes. “Can you imagine? I’d rather d –“ she clears her throat. “No. No, we can’t.”

It’s – whatever. He doesn’t want to think about this. He can’t believe that his bloodline has found another way to screw Michael over. He closes his eyes. He thinks about how Forrest’s hands are cool, how he uses his words like a net – how he catches your thoughts, and tells you it’s okay, and allows you to let go, for a little while. About how his smile blends into the background. About how Michael sees him in the library sometimes. About how difficult it is, to feel for someone you’re not already in love with. About how it’s only ever been easy with Michael, except that it’s been so goddamn difficult – he opens his eyes.

“Look. I have to go,” he tells them. He doesn’t have to go. He’s an adult. He’s almost through with the army. He can be wherever. Do whatever. “I have to meet Forrest,” he adds.

It’s Isobel who talks next. “I’m right in the middle of something.”

“Stay here, finish up. Lock up when you’re done.” He reaches for the keys, then pauses. “I trust that you don’t need any keys?”

Isobel wets her lips. “Keys are a human problem.”

“Great.” He turns to leave. His leg is throbbing for real now, and he’s tired, and if he’s had seen Forrest, he’d probably walk away on him, too.

“So you’re just gonna leave a couple of queer aliens in your father’s bunker to go see your boyfriend?” Michael calls out after him. Alex takes a deep breath, but there is no air for him. He tells himself that everything is okay. Everything is objectively okay. He can ask and he can tell and he can shout whatever the fuck he wants. Marriage is no longer a protected species. He’s dating a cute guy, and his father is powerless, his father is ill, his father might as well be dead, and Michael is right here. None of this is relevant to him. He can’t turn any of this into anything good. The world is progressing, but Alex never does. Alex is so fucking scared.

“I guess I am,” he answers. His leg is somehow steady. His voice isn’t. “And this is my bunker.” He adds, “only queer aliens are allowed, really.”

“You should talk to Maria,” he says, as an afterthought. Because apparently he’s not done seeking attention.

“So should you,” Michael tells him.

“We should go out for drinks,” is what Isobel says.

Alex grants her a smile.

Shoulda coulda woulda. He turns, once again, to leave. He’s leaving. It’s done. 

He can fell Michael’s gaze on him, even after the door closes behinds him. Even after he’s gone. 


End file.
